


incertae sedis

by Aylen



Series: a capite ad calcem [19]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: (underage person is the one taking advantage not the other way around), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Animal Death (Offscreen), Creepy Behavior, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Power Imbalance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylen/pseuds/Aylen
Summary: Julian, the teenage son of a wealthy Roman, takes an interest in his father's thirty-year-old slave...
Relationships: Julian Valerius/Markus, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: a capite ad calcem [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1283009
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37
Collections: 2770 ab urbe condita - the collected fiction





	incertae sedis

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So me and Mossgreen have set up a discord server for 2770 AUC! The invite for which is [here](https://discord.gg/62ZYc3m), so feel free to pop in and say hi! :-)
> 
> And yeah, so this story I was debating about whether to post within _aprīcus_ , the previous story where Ari visits the villa, but then I thought it would work better on it's own. It's basically a backstory for Julian, and Markus more so, and their relationship. Julian is a teenager and Markus is thirty, and they don't really have any kind of ~sexual relationship yet, so this is the beginning of that. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks <3

**2745 AUC**

**__** _the Valerius Villa, 25 years ago_

“Markus!”

Markus pauses in the hall, looking for the source of the call. That was Julian’s voice—Julian, his master’s young son who’s come home for the summer from university in Rome. Julian, who Markus took to school when he was a young boy. 

Julian, who stands at the end of the hall with all of his seventeen years, with blood splattered on his tunic and a wide grin on his youthful face. He laughs as his friends come up behind him, laughing and talking to themselves, similarly blood-covered. 

Markus is carrying a handful of books from Secundus’ tablīnum to the bibliothēca, and he straightens and drops his eyes as they approach, the friends passing him, not giving him a second look. But Julian stops by him—the boy is still several inches shorter. 

“Young Dominus,” Markus says deferentially, and Julian’s eyes darken slightly. The boy is smarter, now. More sure of himself than he was even a few years ago. 

“There you are. Clean up that buck, would you?” he asks, and Markus blinks. 

“The… buck, Dominus?”

“Yes, in the truck. It can’t stay in there.” Julian looks at him, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that Markus has never seen before. It makes him nervous, but he doesn’t want to admit it. 

Markus hesitates. He doesn’t know what to do with a buck. But he doesn’t say as much. 

“…Yes, young Dominus.”

“Don’t call me that,” Julian says, and Markus pauses in surprise, before recovering. 

“Ah, yes, Dominus.”

Julian smiles, and it has a hard edge to it. “Good. Now get going. It’s hot outside.”

Markus tries to hide his flinch. He doesn’t remember Julian being like this as a child. He was sweet and caring. University must have changed him, and not for the better. 

“…Yes, Dominus.”

He goes, before the teenager can say anything else, heading to the culīna to get the cook, because he certainly doesn’t know how to gut and clean a deer.

...

Markus hates the look and smell of carcasses. He hates it, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to work in the kitchens often. Why Julian thought this was a good task for him instead of getting the actual cook to do it—who is doing it, with Markus helping and trying not to vomit—he has no idea. Well, he has some idea. But he doesn’t want to think about that idea very hard. Because it makes him nervous. 

“How’s it going?” comes Julian’s voice from the service room doorway. His hair is damp, presumably from the shower, and his eyes are alight with amusement and interest as he watches the two slaves cut up and clean the deer. They both have butcher aprons on and are splattered with blood and guts. Markus cringes as the cook, Davor, saws a bone apart from the shoulder. 

“Well… Dominus,” Markus says. 

“It is a good deer. I assume you want it for cēna at some point, Dominus?” the cook says, glancing back but not really stopping his work. 

“Yes, perhaps tomorrow or the next day. Whatever works with your plans,” Julian says, glancing around the room, wandering closer until he’s beside them and watching the action up close. 

“You might get blood on you there, Dominus,” Markus says automatically, and Julian looks at him sharply but moves back. 

“Right,” Julian says, glancing down at his hand-stitched and gilded blue tunic and back to Markus. 

Markus looks at him for a moment and then away, back to the deer. 

“You should have seen it,” Julian says after a moment, as Davor cuts another leg. “It was glorious, our horses all going at top speed, the dogs on the scent. I spotted it first, the deer, I mean.”

Markus wets his lip. All he can imagine is death and the expensive pastimes of the rich. Doesn’t Julian have studying to do? 

“Yes, Dominus,” he says, because what else is there to say? What does Julian gain from bragging to him? 

“There was so much blood. When we shot it. And it wouldn’t die at first, so I had to get down and cut its throat.”

Markus swallows down past a feeling of nausea. 

“Poor thing. I really do feel for it. But there was something beautiful in its death. Covered in glistening blood, the forest quiet except for the birds.”

Markus looks down, holds the carcass where the cook needs him to hold it. It’s still warm. Still wet with blood. It was probably doomed to die, since Julian would have gone to the hunting range where the wildlife and deer are kept in stock for exactly this purpose. 

“You have some blood on your face,” Julian says then, and, without asking, grabs a rag and reaches out towards him with it. Markus flinches, and Julian wipes his cheek clean. “It looked good on you,” his young master says. “The blood. It made you look… wild.”

Hunted, you mean, Markus thinks. He’s silent; a little disturbed this teenager is telling him something so strange. But, then, he does feel wild. Even though he can never express it. He feels like this deer did, hunted through beautiful, glimmering forests with a certain future filled with pain and misery ahead. 

He nods. 

“What would you do if I poured blood over you?”

Markus blinks hard, Julian’s voice reverberating around in his head. He swallows, glancing at Julian. “I… would wonder what the purpose is, Dominus,” he says. The cook has slowed, is listening to their conversation with consternation. 

Julian smiles and shrugs. “No reason.” 

And there’s a hint of something manic in his eyes, something hungry. And Markus wonders where it came from. He’s never seen it on Julian before. He was always a sweet, if frustrating child. Now, it seems, he’s grown up. And Markus wonders what his place in Julian’s world is. He didn’t expect to have any attention paid to him at all, like it’s been since he stopped taking the boy to school. He was mostly looked up at with suspicion and annoyance when he escorted Julian anywhere else. Was dismissed during his pre-teen years and now… now Markus thinks he knows what’s going on. And it scares him. 

He’s seen hints of it ever since Julian got back from school for the summer. Speculative looks sent his way. He hadn’t thought much of it, but now it takes on a new meaning. The accidental brushes, the bumps. He just thought Julian had been careless running into him. Now he wonders if it was deliberate. He remembers a dinner party Julian had hosted for his friends. Wine had been spilled on the floor and Markus had cleaned it up, and now that he thinks about it, the location and timing had been suspicious. He’d had to kneel down facing away from Julian to get it. He thought he heard snickers afterward. 

He swallows heavily. Would the master care if his young son wanted to fuck a thirty-year-old slave? Even if that slave is the master’s assistant? Even if that slave had taken the boy to school when he was a child? Probably not. Not Secundus. 

“…How would you feel about that?”

“I… am not sure, Dominus,” he says, giving his answer more leeway than he would with Julian’s pater. “Not very well, I imagine.”

Julian snorts, grinning. “You can get blood at the butcher shop. I have before.”

Markus doesn’t say anything. Wonders where this is leading. He tries to help the cook while also giving Julian the attention he wants. The idea of blood being poured over him sounds absolutely horrendous, and he has a feeling he might throw up if he thinks about it in any great detail. He doesn’t _think_ Julian is bringing this up as a punishment for something. He hasn’t done anything to warrant it, that he can recall. 

Julian just stares at him, a dark, pleased look on his face. “It sounds erotic to me,” he says, and draws closer. Markus stiffens, bloody gloves still on the deer. Davor studiously ignores them, and Markus glances to the boy. His heart is beating hard in his chest, and he feels lightheaded. Julian is flirting with him, stumbling into it. 

Markus all at once wonders if Julian realizes he can just order him to do things, no flirting necessary—he’s probably old enough to get away with it, now—and Markus is incredulous that he’s trying it. Markus _took him to school_ when he was small, and tutored him. Yet, this summer has been different. He can _feel_ Julian’s interest in him like the rays of the sun, and they’re starting to burn him. 

Julian is… well, attractive and not in a way that teenagers are, with lingering acne and a slight hesitance. Markus doesn’t really _want_ to see Julian as attractive. He’s his master’s _son_. And he doesn’t, really. He’s more… terrified, actually. Gaining the interest of a teenage boy is not something he wanted. But now he has it, and he knows he needs to be smart about this. 

He can’t brush Julian off, can’t really deny him, and even outright returning the attention might not be wise. He needs to speak to Julian’s father, and soon. 

Markus doesn’t say anything, just looks at Julian, and stifles an inhale when the boy touches his bare thigh. 

“I… Davor still needs my help, Dominus,” he says, and Julian snorts and rolls his eyes. 

“Well come to my rooms when you’re finished,” he says dismissively, and Markus feels something cold and heavy settle in his belly at Julian’s flippantness. So that’s it, then?

“…Yes, Dominus. Should I bring anything?”

“No,” Julian says, waving a hand behind him as he leaves. 

Markus shivers, and he and the cook lock eyes. Davor’s eyes are pitying and worried. Markus swallows and looks away, holding the other leg for the cook to saw off. 

...

Markus realizes he should have perhaps showered. There’s probably blood in his dirty blonde hair from the deer. But he tried to get it all off with a wet towel in the slave balneum, looking at his own tired eyes on his long face in the mirror, and realizing how unsettled he felt. 

But he certainly isn’t going to ask, in case Julian needs him for… some other reason. 

When he arrives at Julian’s rooms that overlook the ocean, the boy is nowhere to be seen. 

“Dominus?”

Nothing, besides the sound of crickets out the open window, a small thing up high. He examines the room a little more closely, looking for… he doesn’t know, instruments of perversion or torture, but doesn’t see any, before going to stand by the wall to wait. 

He waits for what seems like an hour but is probably just twenty minutes. 

Julian comes striding into the room with a swimsuit on, drying his hair with a towel. He looks over at Markus and smiles. 

“Markus. Thank you. How have you been? I haven’t really asked you since I got here,” he says, throwing the towel on his bed and sitting on the other side, tugging his swim trunks off and pulling on a striped turquoise-and-cobalt-blue tunic with silver stitching, in contrast to Markus’ washed-out blue tunic with neat but simple stitches, lightly stained in places because he had forgone his better-kept livery when helping the cook. He doesn’t care that much, but he doesn’t like the contrast between them. 

“I have been… well, Dominus, thank you for asking.”

Julian looks at him and sniffs. “Well, come here. Tell me about what’s been going on,” he says, sitting on the bed and running fingers through his hair, long legs splayed out. There are crosses on the elegantly mismatched slate floor tiles and the pale blue of the evening sky coming in from the open double doors bathes Julian’s face in light. Markus can hear talking in some other part of the villa—chatter in another villa on the cliff, the beginnings of a party. Julian’s dark, blue eyes are on him, his golden hair damp. His lips look hungry. 

Markus looks down. “I have been taking on more duties as your pater’s secretary, and have been helping your mater occasionally.”

Julian nods, cleaning water from his ears, his eyebrows drawn as he listens, like he actually cares about what Markus has to say. 

“The work is challenging but he teaches me and it’s going well.”

Julian waits a moment, as if for extra details, then smiles. “Oh good! That sounds great. I’m glad you like it.”

Truthfully, he does like it, but Markus hadn’t said as much, because he wasn’t expected to. What he _liked_ wasn’t supposed to be a part of the conversation. 

“Well… I’ll be in my second year of university in the autumn, as you know. I’m really finding myself, I think. The apartment is great and I’m in half a dozen clubs already.” 

He laughs, grinning, and comes over to Markus, who is trying to look supportive and interested, when all he feels is sick dread and a sense of painful inferiority to his former charge and pupil. He doesn’t want to be here. Let him go back to Secundus’ office and finish organizing his scrolls and books. 

“I’m in the chess club, ludus latrunculorum, wrestling, chariot riding, hunting, swimming, and of course the debate society.” He chuckles and looks outside. “You would like that, I think, and chess.”

“Swimming, too,” Markus says quietly, noting that yes, he would like that, if he were not a slave and barred from such clubs. 

“Oh yes, you swim.” Julian’s grin brightens. “You look it,” he says, looking Markus up and down. Markus pales, noting the look for what it is, and Julian’s expression darkens, too, hinting at displeasure. “May I ask… are you… coupled, here,” he asks, outright, and Markus lets out a startled breath before recovering and wetting his lips. A hot flush of humiliation creeps up from his groin to his face. He wonders if he should answer this. Julian doesn’t own him. Yes, Markus has to answer to him by proxy, but his owners possibly have secrets. 

“I… am not currently with another slave…” he says carefully. Julian’s eyes are sharp on his. 

“But a free person, yes?”

Markus swallows. 

Julian makes a disgusted noise. “My parents?” he asks, and Markus doesn’t say anything, eyes fixed on the ground. Julian snorts. “Well… that is going to stop,” he says with a laugh, tapping his chin, before snapping his gaze back to Markus. “I mean… you don’t… _enjoy_ that… do you?”

Markus swallows, and thinks that Julian hasn’t got to the part of his education for slave studies, and hasn’t paid attention all these years to what a slave can and cannot say. “It’s not required for me to enjoy it,” he says. 

Julian hums. 

“Yes, but…”

Markus presses his lips together, thinking of all the blow jobs Secundus has had him perform, and Nerva similarly for her sex. Secundus isn’t ugly, that much is true. He’s handsome, and Nerva is beautiful. But both utterly use him. There’s no part of that he enjoys. Markus stays silent, hoping he can avoid the question. It’s not _for_ him to enjoy it, and why does Julian care, anyway? 

Julian hums again, seemingly frustrated but not willing to push it. “Well… would you want to… fuck _me…_ Markus?” he says, sidling up to him. Markus straightens, swallowing, keeping his eyes on the floor. And he doesn’t miss the obvious: Julian asked if Markus would like to fuck _him,_ not the other, more traditional way of a master fucking their slave. 

Markus wonders, feeling blind, if Julian knows the implication of what he’s asking. For a slave to be the aggressor in the situation is… not done. Well, it is, but it’s not talked about. It’s shameful, to a Roman, to be fucked by their slave. Does Julian not know this?

“I would do as my Dominus asks me,” Markus says carefully, and Julian’s eyes narrow. 

“Which do you like better, then? Taking or being taken? Surely you have a preference.”

Markus can feel his body heat, respond to the suggestive language. “I… do not have a—”

“ _Tell me_ ,” Julian demands, fire sparking in his eyes, and Markus understands then that it would be better to answer truthfully, that try to play the part of obedient slave and tiptoe around it. But what is better, now? Should he be truthful and give Julian a part of himself to exploit? Or should he tell him what he wants to hear? 

“I… have preferred being taken, Dominus,” he supplies finally, and Julian’s eyebrows rise in surprise. 

“ _Really_ …? I never would have thought, Markus. And… have you been? By my… pater?”

Markus swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, Dominus,” he says. But just because he likes being taken and was fucked by Secundus doesn’t mean he _liked_ it. He would say it was rape but, of course, slaves can’t be raped by their master, as they’re just owned objects with no personhood. 

Julian seems to swallow a growl. “And by anyone else?”

Markus wets his lip. He had a male partner once, several. But he never told anyone about it, and no one ever asked, or found out. He doesn’t think it was quite within the domus’ rules, but nobody had told him not to. 

He’s silent for a hairbreadth too long, and Julian’s eyes darken. 

“Tell me, or I will tell my pater,” he threatens, and Markus feels a hint of panic rise. So this is the game he's going to play? Is it better to try to lie now to both of them, or hope that Julian won’t run to Secundus with the information he’s managed to keep hidden for this long. For some reason, Julian seems more dangerous to him—someone Markus isn’t keen on upsetting or disobeying. He isn’t sure if it’s out of fear or… something else. 

“I… yes…”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“When?” 

“Years ago.”

“With who?”

“They’ve been sold now,” Markus admits, and something dark and aching touches his heart. 

“ _Who was it_?” Julian demands, and Markus flinches, hating the hard tone of Julian’s voice. 

“The... gardener and a cook.”

“Their names?”

He’s silent. He doesn’t want to give this up. Julian could probably figure it out looking at old household records. 

“Their _names_ …” Julian growls, stepping closer, fire in his eyes. 

Markus remains silent. Julian slaps him, and the sound echoes. The pain is hot and not entirely shocking, but he makes no noise, and allows his face to show a hint of the sudden anger he feels, the annoyance and sadness. The shadow of tears glisten at his eyes though none fall, and Julian just watches him, eyes wide. The boy swallows, and exhales through his nose. 

“Fine,” he says. “Don’t tell me.” 

Markus clenches his jaw.

“What did you do together?”

Markus resists the urge to hiss, as his mind spins back to exactly what he did with those men. It wasn’t all lovemaking. Sometimes they just talked about the world, freedom, one day living together. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to tell the seventeen-year-old son of his master what he got up to with previous lovers, who he will probably never see again. 

“I beg your forgiveness for wanting some of my privacy respected, Dominus,” he grinds out quickly, ready for another hit. 

But there’s nothing. 

Something on his face seems to give Julian pause, or maybe he’s regretting his earlier violence, for he stares at Markus for a long moment before nodding.

“Alright. I’m sorry,” he says, in a concession that has Markus’ heart beating hard. He breathes a silent sigh of relief from his nose. 

“Thank you, Dominus.”

Julian considers him for a minute. 

“Kiss me,” he says finally, and Markus’s mouth nearly drops open. _What?_ He wets his lip nervously. 

“I… your pater…”

“He won’t mind,” Julian says with a smirk, coming closer, one hand behind his back, the other going to Markus’ chest. “I’m _telling_ you to do this…” he says quietly, with a smile. “You won’t get in trouble.”

Markus doesn’t move, worry in the set of his eyebrows. 

“Come on… please…” Julian begs low, tugging Markus’ tunic down, exposing just a hint more of his firm chest. Markus swallows, wondering quickly if he would get in trouble for not just kissing Julian without his father's consent, but for making the first move. It terrifies him, but he doesn’t want to anger Julian. 

Finally, he tilts his head down, hands going hesitantly to Julian’s hips to steady the boy, and their lips meet warmly. Julian hums, immediately pressing into him, and Markus can feel the boy reacting under his tunic. He breathes steadily, and kisses his soft, inexperienced lips, eyes closed, his hands tightening just fractionally. 

Julian moans low, and takes a little more control, nudging Markus back into the wall, then pressing him into it, hands on his chest and hip as he deepens the kiss, even grinding their hips together. Markus makes a low noise of need, hands slipping up Julian’s sides. Julian’s smirks against his lips. 

“So you _do_ want me,” he proclaims, and Markus, still breathing hard, looks at him and blinks, swallowing. Julian grins and kisses him once more, then on the side of his lips, his cheek, to his jaw and neck, nuzzling in and pressing hot kisses there. Markus moans again, low, body warm, and yips when Julian nips his skin, marking the skin there. Markus flushes. 

“Someone will see…”

“Let them see,” Julian rumbles, moving to Markus’ shoulder, kissing him wetly. Markus groans, and then Julian’s hand goes to his hip under his tunic, pushing it up. Markus is wearing briefs, thankfully, but that doesn’t stop Julian’s hand from moving to cup him through the fabric. Markus groans as ripples of pleasure and shock go through him. 

“Mmm… do you like this?” Julian asks, his thin, bony hand on Markus, massaging him. It makes him shiver.

His technique is unpracticed and rough, and Markus’ response is mostly out of his control, his cock responding without his permission. He notices, then, the contrast in their body types, more than he had previously. Julian is smaller and shorter than him, skinnier, with facial hair just growing in. His angles are bony and he’s still growing into himself. He’s awkward and there’s a cruel gleam in his eye that Markus doesn’t like. 

“ _Tell me_ ,” Julian says.

“I… uh…” Markus swallows, and can’t help it when tears come to his eyes. Does he _like_ being assaulted by his master’s son? Not really.

And Julian sees this, and takes it in, and then lets go, a surprised, concerned look on his face. “Look, it’s fine, I won’t…”

Markus sniffs and gets a hold of himself, breathing steady, one hand pressed to the wall, eyes on the floor as he blinks to clear the tears. He thinks, belatedly, that it was being _asked_ for his opinion that was the worst. 

“I won’t do anything to you. I’m sorry, Markus, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Julian says, seemingly contrite as he steps back. “You can go rest. It’s alright. I’ll let the steward know.”

Markus nods. “Thank you, Dominus,” he says, feeling pathetic and weak and ridiculous as the teenager gives him permission to leave, but he takes it with a nod, leaving the room as quickly as is allowed and going to the slave dormitory, taking refuge in the darkness and sitting on his bed. It’s there he lets himself cry, for the confusion and ache and hurt he feels. For not being able to stop Julian. It’s somehow worse coming from him than his parents. 

From Secundus and even Nerva it’s expected, but from Julian? He walked Julian to school as a child. He helped him study for tests. He gave him advice in the summer when he came home from boarding school. He didn’t expect this, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. _If_ there’s a way to handle it. Is there? Should he… tell Secundus? He has to. Secundus should know. He knows about Nerva using him, but nobody else. He wonders if it was a misstep to allow Julian to touch him. He doesn’t know, but he knows he can’t hide anything from Julian’s father, even if Julian… would he take it out on him later? Would Markus have to tell Secundus about that, too? 

His head hurts, and he rubs his eyes, dropping his elbows to his knees to breathe. 

  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations:**  
>  _incertae sedis_ – (title)of uncertain position; a term used to classify a taxonomic group when its broader relationships are unknown or undefined.  
>  _AUC_ – ab urbe condita; 'from the founding of the City [of Rome]'; this story takes place in 2745 AUC, which is 25 years before the rest of the story, which take place in 2770 AUC (about 2017 CE)  
>  _Dominus_ – master  
>  _tablīnum_ – the study for the paterfamilias - office or study of the paterfamilias, usually open to the ātrium on one side and the garden on the other. where he carried out any business and received his clients  
>  _bibliothēca_ – library  
>  _culīna_ – kitchen  
>  _cēna_ – dinner, evening meal  
>  _balneum_ – washroom/bathroom  
>  _pater_ – father  
>  _mater_ – mother  
>  _ludus latrunculorum_ – “the game of brigands” a two-player strategy board game played throughout the Roman Empire


End file.
